Project Hero
by Imagineer Stephen
Summary: Where not every savior is a knight in shining armor.


**Disclaimer: **The _Hunger Games_, its characters, and locations belong to Suzanne Collins.

* * *

**Project Hero**

_In which not every savior is a knight in shining armor._

She stood on the edge of the train, watching the countryside whip by in a vicious blur of mountains and trees and starry skies. There were no cheering masses this time, no flocks of people waiting to catch a glimpse of her, no sprawling city opening its mouth before it closed around her and kept her there. No Hunger Games sitting at the end of her journey.

Just a lonely girl, praying to see her family again.

"Katniss. It's the middle of the night."

Maybe not so lonely. His voice didn't hold any judgment, just the soft tenderness she'd become so accustomed to hearing. The muted pit-pat of his footsteps broke the monotonous drone of the wind as he approached her. This time, no arms wrapped around her, and the caress of his lips never reached her skin.

Things had been tense between them after the Games. A curt nod and taut words exchanged during meals were their only forms of communication since the train departed from the Capitol. It bothered Peeta at first, but he had chalked her testiness up to how quickly they were approaching home. He believed that at first, but there was something else bothering her that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"Couldn't sleep, huh?" She shook her head. "Me neither. But when I come up here, and I see you, I know that I'm not dreaming anymore."

She sighed. Her arms wrapped around her body in a solitary embrace. "How am I supposed to keep pushing you away when you say things like that?" she mumbled to herself, but kept her eyes pasted on the floor.

"I didn't quite catch that."

Katniss shook her head again. "Nothing. I'm just, you know, nervous about going back."

Peeta raised an eyebrow. "You aren't excited to see your family?"

She placed her hand on the railing of the train car, glancing out into the countryside once more. She could see the faces of her fellow Tributes hiding in the woods, waiting for her to turn her back to them, and she imagined them in the constellations overhead. Closing her eyes didn't stop the nightmares, either, they just crawled back into her memories and plagued the darkness.

"No. It's not that. I don't know how to explain it, Peeta. I'm scared."

"You're scared?" he whispered. "Katniss, we survived the Games. We showed the Capitol that we shouldn't be counted out." He clasped his hands together and stood as straight as he could in his best impersonation of Effie. "And even though the odds were never in our favor, we won."

Katniss almost smiled, except the laughter didn't bubble to the surface, the memories did. Drudged up memories of the peacefulness of the woods, Gale's strong shoulder to lean her head on after a long morning of hunting, and the secrets they exchanged amidst the long-lost ears of the Capitol. No, it wouldn't be right to smile at Peeta because their relationship was a trick, a ploy for the cameras.

Yet, something fluttered in her stomach when she looked back on all those kisses she stole from Peeta in the heat of his injuries and sometimes just to prove to herself that the one before was not quite as heart-wrenching as she made it out to be. Of course, she was always wrong. Even labored by his wounds, his lips still found a way to tear her from her reality and into a world where he was the only thing that mattered.

So she didn't shrug the hand that came to work the knots out of the shoulders. She slumped into his hold, exhausted from the nightmares that stomped through her sleep. Peeta understood, of course. He knew about the dead children that chased him until he woke up.

"You're right," Katniss said into the sky before her. "I shouldn't be. But I can't help it because nothing is going to be the same when we get back. It's all going to change."

Peeta's hand dropped from her shoulder. "Sometimes things have to change, though. It can be for the better."

She turned to look at him, scouring his face for anything she could lash out on. Anything in those eyes that could evoke her anger. "But it doesn't have to. I don't want anything to change."

She might have said: "I was happy going out into the woods with Gale, but I can't do that anymore because President Snow made it very clear that he's going to be watching my every move, just waiting for me to mess up."

And he would have replied, "Oh, really? When did he tell you that?"

And Katniss would have mentioned her conversations with Haymitch after the Games, and maybe the reasons she'd been avoiding him would all come out into the open. There would be questions and arguing and crossed arms and no more Peeta, and way too much depended on her relationship with him in front of those damned cameras to risk that happening.

So, instead, she said, "Look. I liked the way things were before, and –" _we aren't safe anymore, Peeta_, were the words she didn't say.

After all, it didn't hurt to have a friendly relationship with him when the cameras weren't around. Maybe, just nothing more than that.

"And what, Katniss?" he asked, jamming his hands into his pockets. "We gave these people hope, gave them something to believe in, and maybe our District won't be considered the weakling after that. We showed them that we can win. And you, you've saved your sister. Isn't that… what you wanted?"

She felt selfish as a pang of guilt shot through her body. Prim hadn't crossed her mind as much as she usually did, and Katniss could have blamed it on the Games, but that would've been admitting a Capitol victory and she was not willing to do that. She settled on blaming herself, cursing herself for forgetting the whole reason she entered the Games in the first place.

She did it, too. Won. Received the opportunity to return home to see her sister again. The chance to make her life something more than living off of scraps, for her to make something out of her life.

"It's all I ever wanted," she said to him, searching his face once more. Only a look of unspoken promises that was all Peeta, and somehow that reassured her. Even if he didn't know how significant their last act of desperation was, he wouldn't let her down when she needed him. He was everything she wasn't with the cameras around, poised and convincing.

Peeta nodded. Sensing that she had dipped too far into her thoughts to continue the conversation, he headed for the ladder back into the train cars, but a hand clasped around his before he could get far. He turned to see Katniss staring back into his eyes, something shimmering in hers, and he wrapped his own hand around hers.

"Stay with me, for a little while?" she asked. "To watch the stars."

The two of them plopped onto the floor, staring into the night sky, each hoping the other's presence would scare off the nightmares. At least for a little bit.

**[…]**

When the morning blossoms behind the cloudy skies, Katniss and Peeta remained asleep on top of the train, the Girl on Fire resting her hand in his. Neither of them stirred until the flamboyant voice of Effie Trinket found their ears, and Katniss awoke in a sea of foggy skies and a disoriented world. As she realized her hand was joined to Peeta's, a blush crept up her neck, and she hurried to move away.

Her heart thumped in her chest, and she worried the rapid beating would wake him. Except he didn't move. While she concerned herself with slowing her heart, she wondered how her hand ended up in his, but the last thing she remembered was talking to Peeta and looking at the stars. At least the nightmares were quieter when he was there.

Looking away from the boy that kept her heart racing, she spotted the coils of black smoke twirling into the heavens that signified their nearness to her District. Closer to the people who cheered her on, to Gale, and to Prim. Sweet Prim. And the thoughts of reuniting with her home sent thoughts into a flurry.

"Peeta," she said as she shook him. He just groaned and swatted at her hands. "Wake up, now. We're almost home."

Nothing. He never slept this heavy, even when he was sick, but she figured he'd earned it. What she would give for a sleep where she didn't toss and turn and wake up coated in sweat and tears. The least she could do was give him that.

The water felt soothing on her skin. As she stepped out of the shower and into the chilly room, the initial excitement of approaching home began to wear off. All of a sudden her hands were shaking when she dried her hair, and she hoped her Prep Team wouldn't notice because there would be questions and mentions to the others and she really couldn't explain why she was so nervous.

Victors were supposed to move into a new house, right? A little village set aside for them, and since Haymitch was the only living Victor, it would just be the three of them and her family. She could handle that, or so she told herself. There would be no more trips into the woods to spend time with Gale. Maybe she wouldn't see him much at all. He was sentenced to work in the coal mines, just like… her father.

And that dug up years of repressed memories that nipped at her ankles in the darkness and smiled when something reminded her of him. Her hands fidgeted when she tried to think of something else, but that only brought her back to the woods during the Hunger Games. Oh, how much more terrifying those woods were when she wasn't the one doing the hunting.

"Katniss!" Effie's voice rang through the hallways. "Katniss! Haymitch says he needs to speak with you."

Oh no. Haymitch never asked to speak with her. If he wanted to, he just found her and said what needed to be said. She didn't hear Effie's footsteps retreat, so she replied with, "Be right there," and scrambled to dress herself in something that would be appealing.

The padded carpet in the hallways silenced the sound of her feet, but her shallow breathing interrupted the low rumble of the train as it sped along the track. His door looked open, and she raised her hand to push it inwards. Voices stilled her. Haymitch and Peeta conversed in soft tones, sometimes pausing to see if someone was coming, and it dawned on her that they were waiting for her to show.

She never did. She could be silent if she wanted to be.

"Look, she knows what she's doing. Alright? She has to know how it's affecting you, too," Haymitch said, trying to convince him of something.

"No." Peeta this time. "I don't think she does. Right now, I have to keep pretending, and it's killing me to do this."

Haymitch groaned. Apparently this was something they had discussed more than once. "I hate this for you. I do, but this is bigger than your damn emotions. This is important for everyone who lives here. For Katniss, too."

The room fell silent. "Is it really that important, Haymitch? I thought – I thought we were just… I thought that we won. That it was over."

The memories washed over Katniss, of conversations held during the pre-Games celebrations, alone on top of the apartment. When Peeta told her that he wouldn't let the Capitol change him, and maybe those berries were more dangerous than she thought. That never crossed her mind at the time, though. She only wanted to save herself.

Maybe Peeta didn't come into her thoughts when she held out the berries. All of the emotions from winning the Games and learning that they both weren't able to return home had blended inside of her, and on instinct she had thought of eating the berries. If Peeta couldn't come with her, then she wasn't going anywhere.

And at that moment, she realized how selfish she had been.

"He said it to her. Maybe not directly, but just watch the programs they stream from Panem sometime. Just look at the anger on his face when they ask him about the Games." Haymitch sounded desperate.

Peeta sighed, drumming his fingers along the edge of his seat. No sounds came from the room until he spoke again. "If it matters to that many people, I guess I can manage. You know, for her sake."

They stood up, shook hands, and whispered something else that she didn't catch. She backed down the hallway until she was far enough to avoid suspicion. Peeta walked out of the room, glanced her direction, and brushed past her without a word. She watched him retreat to his room, wondering why he seemed to not recognize her. Just last night they shared their most intimate moment since the Games.

Still lost in her worries, she wandered into Haymitch's room and took a seat.

"Been listening in on me, sweetheart?" he asked with a smirk. When she widened her eyes and gasped, he continued, "You're not quite as quiet as you think you are, especially when you keep pressing against the wall. We were speaking softly for a reason."

"How did you –"

He smiled. "I'm a Victor, too. We didn't all win by luck, eh?" Nimbly dodging the flower vase thrown at his head, he tossed his head back in laughter. The shattered glass littered the floor, but it blended in with the bottles of alcohol strewn around the room. "Joking, joking. Settle down."

"I'm not in the mood for joking. What's going on?"

Haymitch sipped from a cup that was filled with something detrimental to his health, she was sure. It didn't reek of alcohol as usual, but his breath smelled stale. "You remember what I told you? About how you might have started something you never meant to with that stunt you pulled with the berries?"

Katniss sighed. "It wasn't a stunt. I was just trying to make sure they didn't win." It sounded like something Peeta would say, and she prided herself on that, even if that wasn't the honest-to-goodness reason.

"They being the Capitol?" She nodded. "Dammit, dammit, dammit." He ran a hand through his greasy hair. "That's not good enough. You can't let him hear that."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "I thought I did the right thing. I still do."

"Yes, yes, of course," he mumbled. Haymitch gripped her by the shoulders, staring into her gray eyes that screamed defiance. "Whatever you do, don't let him hear you say that. Say anything else. Say, say, that you were so overcome by your love for Peeta… that you couldn't bear to live a life without him there with you."

"But I don't –"

"I don't care," he interrupted. "You heard me talking to, Peeta. What you did matters to everyone around you. It's something that's never happened before, for a reason. The Capitol hates being showed up, especially during their Games. It's their show, and anyone who screws with it is going to be watched."

She weighed this. Her fists clenched until the blood cut off from her fingers, and she massaged the appendages until she could feel them again. "What do I need to do?"

"Just lay low. I know, it's going to be tough with the Victor's Tour and everything else that comes with winning, but just do your best. No more sneaking off into the woods or mentioning anything against the Capitol. He's bound to have someone watching you at all times."

"Alright. And Peeta? I – I still don't know how to feel about him."

Haymitch loosened his grip on her shoulders, slumping back into the cushions of his own seat. Another sip. "You need to act as though this is the Games. Star-crossed lovers don't just stop acting affectionate all of a sudden. Yeah, everyone here noticed how you two were on the train. That needs to stop. You're supposed to be madly in love with this boy."

"Haymitch, I don't know if I can pull this off. I don't handle the cameras well. I'm not like him."

"Then let him do most of the speaking. You just keep yourself pressed to his side at all times, and don't be afraid to kiss him. To be honest, you did that pretty well when you two were in the cave. It was convincing."

And that made her proud. Maybe she wasn't as useless in front of the cameras as she thought. She could pretend, too. "Why does it have to be this way, Haymitch? Why me?" She didn't say, _All I wanted to do was get back home to see my sister._ But he knew.

"We just have to let this whole thing blow over, sweetheart. Before you know it, you'll be forgotten."

Forgotten. Just how she wanted it. She didn't need people to witness everything she did, every emotion she suffered through, and she definitely had no desire to partake in anything else the Capitol had to offer.

The train's horn snapped her from her thoughts. "Get to the dining room. Effie will be looking for you. Probably to go over the damned schedule fourteen times. I've got to get ready."

Katniss trudged out of the room, already resenting the schedule reading. She stole one more glance into his room, and apparently by get ready, Haymitch meant drink the rest of the bottle. She pitied him, but he wouldn't stop on her account.

Haymitch had to be right. Picking at the untouched food on her plate while Effie droned on about the next week in District 12, Katniss feigned interest that seemed to satisfy Effie enough. The car slowed to a stop, the brakes singing, and Effie huffed because there were still two days to go over but she supposed she would have to wait until they were all together again.

The walk to the exit of the train felt like a lifetime. She was still shaking, and she tried to pass it off as motion sickness from being on the train for so long. Instead, Peeta allowed her to lean into his frame. She remembered her promise to Haymitch to make their relationship feel tangible to everyone. It wouldn't be tough to convince most people, but those who knew her – the few that took the time – would not be so easily deceived; and that made her queasy.

"C'mon," he said, looking down at her widened eyes. "The Katniss Everdeen I know wouldn't be intimidated by coming home. This is what you were waiting for."

He was different than earlier. She searched his eyes for anything resembling that coldness from before, but she did not find anything. Just the Peeta she'd grown to know. Maybe Haymitch had given him the same pep talk. She put her weight onto him, letting him support her because she didn't trust her legs to hold her up, especially when the doors opened to reveal hundreds of screaming people.

And it was like the Capitol all over again. Except this time, the crowds weren't coated in glitter and skin-paint and outlandish colors, they decorated themselves with the ashes of the coal mines and the pain of starvation and desertion.

This time, though, there was something different in those gray Seam eyes. Something akin to fire.


End file.
